Funeral Masses for Aaron Echolls:Viewing Hrs 4 to6
by Dee12
Summary: Logan's daddy issues are showing. Implied LV, DV cause I can't ignore canon no matter how much I want to.


Title: Funeral Masses for Aaron Echolls: Viewing Hours (4-6)  
Author: Desire  
Characters/Pairing: implied Logan/Veronica-ness, Duncan/Veronica – cause canon compels me, Trina Echolls, and a magnificently dead Aaron Echolls  
Rating: R for language  
Summary: Logan's daddy issues are showing. (Logan POV)  
Spoilers: Season one and lets say up to 2x07 to be safe.

Author's Note: Written for **sexycereal**'s 101 Things to Do Before You Die challenge on Live Journal. I got #3 "Win an award, trophy or prize" -- cause the number randomizer apparently hated me. After weeks of trying to write this, this all just sort of spilled out of my brain at once. I dunno if that makes it good or not, but I figured I'd share.

Not leaving feedback makes the baby Xenu cry and we all wouldn't want that.

* * *

**xx**

_Reporter 1: We're here outside of the Neptune County Jail where the body of actor Aaron Echolls was discovered this morning. The star of such films as In Pursuit of Happiness was awaiting trial for the murder of Lilly Kane, daughter of software mogul, Jake Kane. The official cause of death has not yet been revealed...  
_  
**xx  
**  
The worst part of all of this crap, has to be the look on their faces. It's a rather piss poor attempt at sympathy that's more than likely fueled by good manners than any honest-to-god trace of the aforementioned emotion. Despite the maximum sadness factor, you appreciate the effort they put into the lie.

And, yeah, you get it. Honestly, you do.

Aaron Echolls may have been god's biggest misuse of human cells, but the man was still your father; a bit of respect is still required in situations such as these, whether the not-so dearly departed truly deserves it.

You understand where they're coming from. Why they would feel the need to offer you condolences and ask how you're doing. Seriously. You understand completely.

But, you don't for a second let this rare sign of maturity keep you from being annoyed as fuck by all of these forced, insincere pleasantries. You weren't fucking born yesterday and you know the breaking news blurb on the death of that part-time actor, full-time sociopath lifted a weight off of many-a-shoulder. Somewhere, church bells were probably ringing, and little forest creatures with wide anime expressions were probably hopping around singing with glee.

You may understand where they're coming from, but you just wish people would cut the shit already and be honest.

So, when you breeze into the hotel room and find Veronica and Duncan cozily snuggled up like the walking embodiment of teen-dream puppy love that they are, and they grace you with uncomfortable looks and fumbled words "_How are you holding up_?", you're armed with a plan.

Well, not so much a plan as it is a statement. There's no doubt your feelings are going to be conveyed quite nicely:

Duncan says nothing and Veronica gives you a look that smells of righteous indignation when you flop down in between them with a bottle of Boonesfarm in your hand. Deliciously ghetto, but gets you wasted all the same.

"Flip it to CNN," you order as you go to work on unscrewing the top of the Blue Hawaiian flavored alcohol.

"What the hell are you doing?" Veronica's giving you the eye. She disapproves already. That's ashame, really, cause you planned on sharing.

There's a sigh from Duncan, but he complies, and the moment you hear the reporter mention dear ole' daddy's name, you take a big swig from the bottle.

"Celebrating," you tell her after a particularly hard swallow. "Here's to..." you begin hoisting the bottle in the air with mock dramatics, "here's to aneurysms. Nature's little miracles."

**xx**

_Tonight, on The Insider – the emotional interview with the daughter of Aaron Echolls, you **don't** want to miss. _

:video clip:

Pat O'Brien: Had your father lived, do you believe he would have been acquitted of murder charges?

Trina Echolls: Oh, definitely. Definitely. I, know he was innocent. There was just so much misinformation about him before he died...

Pat O'Brien: The claims of abuse...

Trina Echolls: Right. It's all nonsense, Pat. My dad was a good man; he couldn't hurt a fly let alone his own children!

:end video clip:

**xx**

"To my beloved daughter, Trina, I bequeath all of my personal effects in the house..."

A snort. "Good luck collecting that."

"Totaling two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In addition, I also leave you a total of five million dollars. To my son, Logan..."

This should be good.

"...I leave a total of five million as well..."

Your face scrunches; hell, you were expecting a little more than a measly five mill – five million doesn't exactly say "Sorry I murdered your girlfriend, son".

"That's it? What about my trust fund?"

A sour expression forms on Barry's face and he makes a show of clearing his throat and ruffling papers. "Not to be touched until you're twenty-one. _Both_ of your parents made that fact very clear."

"And, uh, how exactly am I supposed to collect all of my share?" Trina speaks up suddenly. "Half of it is char grilled thanks to _him_."

Obviously, your sis missed that memo on the fire that claimed casa-de Echolls; the one that points out the fact that the arsonists backs were considerably wet in nature. You, however, fake shock complete with your hand on your chest and a gasp. It has the desired affect and Trina narrows her brown eyes while mumbling something that's either a threat or a curse – most likely both. She can be so incredibly easy sometimes.

"You'll have to take that up with the insurance company. Although, I think there were a few items of Aaron's that survived the fire..." Barry's sifting through papers again and you take the opportunity to clean your fingernails with his letter opener. "Ah, yes," he says when he's found what he was searching for, "Three of Aaron's awards were recovered: two Golden Globes and a Blockbuster award. They now belong to you."

You can't help but smile,

"No fair! Clearly, dad liked the you best!"

**xx**

_Reporter 2: Funeral services for Aaron Echolls get underway today at St. Francis Catholic Church...  
_  
**xx**

"You, know, I don't understand this at all."

It's amazing, the amount of strangers who show up at the church. Fans with your father's face adorning their T-shirts. Reporters with their cameras and questions.

"What is with this _attitude_, son?"

Only five people Aaron actually knew in life came to his funeral. Trina's flavor of the month, counted just as much as the flask you hid away in your pocket. And when your grandmother disappeared back into the comfort of her limo, and Conner Larkin walked outside to take questions, and Barry decided to head to the cemetery, and Trina's date grew tired of the bleak atmosphere and whisked her away, you were the only one left.

All alone. With him.

"Where I stand, you should be thanking me."

The grin on your father's face is enough to turn your stomach so hard you fear you might collapse. His head cocks to the side on that pillow of eternal rest and those cold eyes burn into yours.

"Thanking you?" your voice is shaky. You grip the side of the casket for support.

"For taking Lilly off your hands," he tells you simply. "She didn't exactly love you, you know."

Your mouth fills up with blood and at that point, you think it's best to remove your teeth from the meat of your cheek. "Shut up."

"I was only trying to protect you, Logan. It's just like you to take a piece of ass and try and turn her into a housewife." He tsks. "Once a whore, always a whore."

"You know shit about Lilly."

"C'mon, you've seen the tapes." Aaron chuckles and you feel a sudden urge to vomit. "For all intents and purposes, I think I knew her pretty well. I did you a favor, boy."

"You _murdered_ my girlfriend, and you fucking got away with it! Do you really think I'm gonna mourn you? Shed one tear because you got to die in your sleep all quick and painless?" You glower, your hand gripping the casket's side so tightly your knuckles are white as sheets. "I should've bashed your head in while I had the chance. Or set you on fire."

"Oh, so is _that_ what all of this hostility is all about? Veronica Mars?" His laugh echoes in your ears. "I hear she's dating Duncan again. Don't 'cha wish she would have stayed in that refrigerator just a few minutes longer?"

Aaron's casket rattles violently when you kick it. Your right foot feels as if it's been broken in two, but on a scale of one-to-ten measuring how much your very existence sucks beyond the telling of it, physical pain doesn't even register.

"Logan?"

It's her concerned voice that pulls you back to reality.

**xx**

:_video clip: _

Conner Larkin: All I ask is that you show the Echolls family the respect they deserve during this difficult time.

:end video clip:

**xx**

You fractured your right foot. Way to go, brain trust.

Veronica sits, arms folded, watching you greedily gulp down the pain killers the nurse handed you. She patiently waits until the two of you are alone again,

"Did it make you feel any better?"

The question's sincere; you're just too slow to stop your mouth from spitting out the first dickhead-ish sentence that comes to mind.

"Right as rain," you snicker. "Grey skies clearing up. I'm putting on my happy face."

"Logan, I'm..." she starts and stops at the sound of your hollow laughter.

"Don't even _think_ about telling me you're sorry, Veronica. If you feel that bad – pick out a Hallmark card and let Snoopy say it for you, cause I've heard enough 'sorrys' to last a lifetime."

She stares at you for a minute before wordlessly sitting down on the end of the hospital bed. "I'm sorry he never paid for what he did," she says quietly and you know that will be the last you ever hear of it from her lips. Veronica Mars isn't exactly the queen of overstating emotion and you'd likely drop fucking dead of shock if she did it more than once.

The pills are kicking in and to say that you feel good at the moment would be an understatement.

You fall asleep with your fingers entwined with hers.

**xx**

_Tonight on The Insider... Brad and Angelina, could wedding bells be just around the corner?  
_

**xx**

Giving you a cane is like giving a wino a bottle of Old English. You're quick to use it to test the limits of your fellow man; you poke waitresses, jab unsuspecting children, and get out of hours of tedious homework. When your temporary cripple status doesn't work, you kindly remind everyone you're an orphan.

An orphan with a bum foot.

Dick thinks it's hilarious. Duncan merely shakes his head and smiles at your antics. Veronica says that maybe you've been watching those _House_ dvd's a little too much.

After your episode at the church, everyone suggests you go and see a shrink. Talk things out. Get some closure.

"Batter, up?"

You've got your own ideas on the matter.

Cane in hand, you hobble up to the makeshift plate and throw Veronica a smile over your shoulder as you fix the goggles over your eyes.

"I still don't think it's fair that you get first up," she pouts.

"Hey, when your daddy kills your girlfriend, then _you_ can get first bat," you sardonically tell her.

She grins. "Pinky swear?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Never one to pass up an opportunity for the dramatic, you point your cane out toward the sky as if you were the Great Bambino himself, and with one fluid motion, you bring the oak crashing down.

The Blockbuster Award for Favorite Actor in a Romantic Comedy shatters into a million, tiny pieces.

You'll do this closure thing in your own, special way.


End file.
